Nothing from Nothing
by PengYn
Summary: Sawyer/Juliet '70s fic. "The poor Dharma van hated the heat and Radzinsky as much as Sawyer did." Life, love, and trouble in the days of Dharma.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** _The poor Dharma van seemed to hate the heat and Radzinsky as much as Sawyer did. _Another glimpse of Sawyer and Juliet during the missing 3 Dharma years.

**A/N:** Firstly I have got to thank each and every one of you for the awesome feedback you gave for my first fic. I was so blown away by the response that my first real thought was "how the heck do I do follow that?" The answer is - I honestly don't know. I think I'll just continue to explore these moments and do the best I can. The title is, again, inspired by a 1974 chart hit, this time by Billy Preston.

**Part One - Nothing from Nothing**

Sawyer wasn't even sure why he'd said it. He'd slept badly the night before and his temper was hovering just shy of boiling point. He'd spent the entire morning chasing after Radzinsky - that son of a bitch thought he owned the whole damned security division. Check that. The whole damned Island.

It was hotter than Hell, the air so still and sticky he'd have sacrificed his limbs for a breeze. He'd been back and forth four times already, completely bypassed lunch, and swore that if that four-eyed Stalin gave him _one_ more order, he was gonna have a hard time explaining to Horace how his fist wound up in Radzinsky's jaw.

On his fifth trip out, the engine blew. The poor Dharma van seemed to hate the heat and Radzinsky as much as Sawyer did. He got out and collapsed under the pathetic shade of a wilting sapling, the sweat clinging mercilessly to the cotton t-shirt beneath his beige jumpsuit. He unzipped to the waist and radioed Security.

Miles answered sounding chipper. "What's up La Fleur?"

Sawyer scowled. No doubt the bastard was sitting quite comfortably with his feet on the desk and a fan facing full frontal.

"Call the motor-pool. I need a pickup out by grid twenty-seven." He growled.

"Pick up. Twenty-seven. Got it. Miles out."

Sawyer fell back on to the grass. He could've sworn he'd heard the pages of a magazine turning – probably the kind that produces poster pinups, everyone hopes their girlfriend doesn't see. And why was Miles so goddamn content? Maybe he'd drop by Jin's later. His English wasn't all _that_ much better, but he figured the Korean could at least count.

What felt like a year later, he finally heard the rumblings of a Jeep. He propped himself up by the elbows and caught a glimpse of golden hair as the vehicle bounced a bit on the uneven terrain. By the time it came to a stop just shy of the blue and white van, he'd sauntered on over and was leaning on its door for support.

Juliet used the Jeep's frame to propel herself over the door. It always made her feel a little gung-ho when she did it. She smiled and raised her arm in a wave.

"Hey." She said, reaching into the back of the Jeep to grab her toolbox. It looked ridiculously large hanging from her slender arm.

"Hey yourself." He managed a half smile, but by the look of her delicately raised eyebrow he was sure it came off as more of a sneer.

"So what happened?" Even as she said it, she was popping the hood for a look-see.

"The Hippy vans have started a revolt. Workin' conditions not up to union standards."

She brushed back a strand of hair that had matted to her face, early traces of a frown evident in her brow.

"Well I can see why." She said, examining the damage. "You're over-heated. You've probably blown your transmission, and the motor looks dead."

"Ya don't say." He muttered.

She stared pointedly, ignoring the sarcasm, but wiping her grease-stained hands and placing them on her hips to show she'd heard him. Sawyer grabbed the plastic water barrel out the back of the Jeep by way of an apology. Juliet watched him tip some of the water over the crying engine, noting -almost clinically - how his taut muscles were straining in the heat. She ducked out of the steam, blinking as sweat stung her eyes. She'd only been out here a few minutes, and she _knew_ he'd been up and at it all day, probably for a good hour before she'd even blinked back the sleep in her eyes.

"You know I could've done that." She told him.

"Didn't want you to break a nail." He smiled as he said it, but it didn't quite reach all the way to his eyes.

Juliet showed off the back of her hand revealing a very neat, but short set of nails. She wiggled her fingers lightly as she did so, and it occurred to her that she would like nothing more than to drop four of them right now in response. Perhaps sensing that he was treading on dangerous ground, he wandered over to the edge of the grass and sat himself down, knees protesting as he did so. Juliet buried herself in the engine. Thirty seconds in, she was ready to join Sawyer in unzipping her jumpsuit. The dark blue was unmerciful, and if hadn't been for the fact she knew the grease stains would mark her for a week she'd have stripped right down to her shorts.

That same thirty seconds in, Sawyer waved his arm in her general direction.

"You done yet?"

"Do I look done?" she said, not bothering to look up.

He allowed a minute to go by before repeating himself.

She huffed heavily and swivelled her head in his direction. "You _could_ help y'know."

"Ain't my place." He replied.

Juliet turned back to the engine. She decided she liked _it_ a lot better than she liked _him_ right now.

Sawyer felt another decade go by before Juliet uttered a small sigh.

"I'm sorry. I'm going to have to tow it."

"What? No! Just stick a band-aid on it and send us on our way."

"I can't, James. The van's had it. I can't fix it here. I'm going to have to take it back to the motor-pool." Even as she said it she was already backing the Jeep in front of the dead van.

"What am I s'posed to tell Radzinsky? I was meant to be back forty minutes ago."

"I'm sure he'll understand." She said, jumping out again and tossing him the cable so they could connect the van to the tow-hitch.

"Yeah he's real understandin'. I'll just radio on down and tell him he's gotta stop playing God for the rest of the day, because Tool-Box Barbie over here can't fix a simple engine."

Her expression turned to ice, and he knew he'd crossed a line. Those clear blue eyes that had settled and softened so easily in Dharmaville, were hardened and cold once more. He had half a mind to watch out for a Taser, but he didn't want to risk dropping her gaze, because he knew that if he did, she'd strike. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, her cheeks flushed both by her labor and from her anger. Whatever was bothering him, she no longer cared. She turned on her heels and went back to securing the van. Sawyer stood there, his breathing increasingly erratic. He was pissed, and he was looking for someone to be mad at. Sawyer wasn't even sure why he'd said it. He just had. He kicked a tire by way of frustration. Juliet didn't even look at him.

"That'll help." Was all she said. She was infuriatingly calm, and right now he hated her for it. He wanted her to get angry, so that he could somehow justify his own warped frustrations. But she didn't budge.

"Don't _you_ care?" he finally spat out.

She shrugged her shoulders. "About what? The van? It'll live." She stood facing him once more, so close he could count her eyelashes. "Or did you mean getting on Radzinsky's bad side?"

"He don't have a _good_ side. Man's a prize ass."

"Well James, right now, so are you."

He recoiled as if she'd just slapped him in the face.

"I don't know what Grinch stole your Christmas, but please stop taking it out on me." She brushed past him, their shoulders knocking as she did so. She'd already started the Jeep's engine when he called out -

"Six months Juliet!"

She turned off the engine.

"Six months since Locke vanished down that damn well. Six months _searchin'_ for nothin'. Six months stuck here survivin' in Dharmaville with their hippy hair and their experimental mumbo jumbo! Six _months_ Juliet. And for _what_? Don't you care it's been this long? That we've got nothin'? Got _nowhere_?"

She was looking at him, less angry but still guarded. He was leaning on the open driver's door, hands on hips, eyes slightly wild.

"I didn't even realize." She confessed softly.

His jaw gaped. "What, you don't got a calendar? Never learned how to count?"

She got out of the seat once more, and folded her arms before she replied. "I don't know when I stopped counting the days, James. I just know that I did."

He shook his head, disbelief etched in the lines of his face. "Why?"

"Why, what?"

"_You_ were the one who wanted to leave."

"Well _you_ were the one who asked me to stay. So maybe _I_ should be asking why?"

"Maybe I got nothin' from nothin' here." He growled quietly.

Her face was sad and she wanted nothing more than to continue to stare at the ground, but she forced herself to look at him.

"I have a house. I have a job. I have a boiler that breaks down every other week, but that's okay because there's always someone around who'll fix it." She tried to stay the tears threatening the corners of her eyes. "And maybe… maybe you should stop surviving James, and start _living_. They're good people, and they've welcomed us into their lives, and they've given us all a home. I'm not _searching_ for anything anymore, because for the first time in a very _very_ long time, I'm actually okay. I've actually _found_ something. I have a life. I have friends that feel like family. I have you." A tear escaped, trailing down her cheek and pausing on her chin before falling into the dust. "At least I thought I did."

He tried to reach for her arm, but she'd climbed back into the Jeep and slammed the door before he'd moved half an inch. Starting the engine and staring straight ahead she said, "Thank you for correcting me."

Before he could so much as open his mouth she'd pressed down on the gas and taken off, the two vehicles stirring up dust in their wake. He closed his eyes, dropping his head on his chest.

He'd said, and done, a lot of hurtful things in his time. Occasionally he'd felt ashamed by his actions, by his ability to give someone a verbal whiplashing. But he'd spent most of his life running from trouble that by the time he got somewhere new he had to reinvent himself, and to do that he had to forget all of those things he'd said, and done.

Standing alone underneath the blazing afternoon sun, his anger replaced by regret, he realized two things. One, he'd chucked the walkie back into the van when he'd gone to fetch the water. And two, he'd just managed to hurt his best friend in the world.

And out here he couldn't forget, because there _was_ nothing out here but the heat and his shame.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So there was never actually meant to _be_ a second chapter, but even_ I _thought it was cruel to just leave it lying where it was. Thank you to everyone who read and commented on part one, you are the reason I actually *wanted* to write more! "Sundown" is a 1974 hit song by Gordon Lightfoot.**

**Part Two – Sundown**

Juliet had no idea why she was being so stubborn. The heat of the day held no reprieve, and the night air was humid and ghostly still. She lay on her bed sprawled on her back, covers tossed to the floor, her body begging for the breeze that would not come. She'd heard him come in. Heard him take off his boots and toss them aside. She knew exactly where they'd be, lying on the floor to the left of the front door. He'd forget to leave them outside like she'd asked him to a hundred times before. And she pondered this strange relationship of theirs. She'd never lived with a man she wasn't sleeping with. She'd never actually been friends with a man where the words and the laughter rolled so easily you'd assume they'd known each other all their lives. She'd never respected a man as much as she'd come to respect James Ford – or Jim La Fleur as he was now known – except for right now, because she was being stubborn.

It gave her a grim satisfaction to imagine him wandering round the kitchen. He'd be looking for a dinner she hadn't made. Well she had actually, but just enough for one. She'd eaten, washed and dried the dishes, and gone to bed early. She knew it was spiteful, knew that he would have walked all the way back to the barracks in that heat. Usually his day was longer than hers, so she didn't mind preparing most of their meals. Sometimes he'd open up a bottle of wine, or just grab a couple of Dharma beers. He'd grin as she grimaced, because she wasn't all that fond of beer but she drank it anyway. They'd fallen into this domestic routine, and it felt familiar and safe. So she allowed herself this silent rebellion, because if she stopped to think too much about what he'd said today, she'd realize how much he'd scared her.

Sometime later he knocked quietly on her door, but she pretended to be asleep. He probably knew she was faking it, it was too damn hot and she'd bet good money that no one would be getting any sleep tonight.

She was glad she didn't make that bet. She did sleep, but she woke up hot and groggy. When she walked through to the living room she knew he'd already left for the day. There were faint dust marks where his shoes had been, and she suppressed the smile that threatened when she realized he'd probably used those same shoes to try and disperse the dust. She showered, dressed, and got ready to greet another murderous day. She opened the front door. There was a flower taped to the outside by its stem. She didn't know whether to laugh or sigh. The flower was drooping, bent almost double it simply had no chance in this heat.

She removed the flower from the door, and the sigh won her over. A flower was not a substitute for an apology. Pocketing it, she headed out for the motor-pool. Juliet had no idea why she was being so stubborn. Today, she was just exercising that right.

Sawyer heard her before he saw her. A wrench dropping. A muted cry of "Son-of-a-bitch!" He grinned. He knew where she'd picked _that_ one up.

She slid out from under the dead van, massaging her forehead. It occurred to him that it probably wasn't the _best_ idea to try and ease the tension between them while she was busy working on its catalyst. After all, the van was the reason they'd been out there in the first place. If he hadn't pushed it so hard he might've made it back in one piece, or enough of a piece to avoid an argument.

She spotted him, and he knew by the fact she didn't return his grin that he had not been forgiven. Still, he tried anyway. "You get my gift?"

"If by _gift_ you mean the dead flower I found taped to the door this morning, then yes, I saw it."

He bit back his retort, and changed tack. "The van okay?"

She hadn't stopped walking about her station, but flicked her eyes in his direction as she said "Well the underbelly looks like it's been taken backwards through a blender. I now get to spend the rest of the day refitting it."

He winced a little at her tight smile. He knew how much he'd pushed that van yesterday. "Sorry."

A snort escaped her throat. She stared at him, then stared at the van and decided she'd had enough. Tearing off her gloves and throwing them down, she stormed out into the sunshine. He tore out after her.

"_What_?" he yelled at her back.

"_What_?" she spun round. "You're _joking_ right?" She was off again, marching blindly.

He ran to catch up with her, overtaking her, he forced her to stop when he blocked her path. She stared somewhere over his shoulder.

"What?" he repeated softly.

"How is it that you can apologize so easily to a _motor vehicle_ but God forbid a _person_ get that same treatment?" her voice was equally as soft, her eyes still refusing to look at him. She didn't have to, for him to see the hurt on her face.

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, searching for the right words. "I ain't good at this Juliet."

"Have you ever _tried_?" the edge crept back into her voice and when she looked at him this time she'd managed to mask the hurt.

"Hey I gave you a flower!" his voice rose to match hers.

"How is that the same?!" she half-laughed, half-cried.

"Do you know how many women I've got flowers for in my life? Where it _wasn't_ a con? There _wasn't_ an endgame? Where it was actually because I _wanted_ to?!"

She opened her mouth to respond, but he cut her off. "Once. This mornin'. For you."

Her expression faltered. She knew him, probably better than anyone else _ever_ had. She knew he was sorry and she knew she should just forgive him. She had no idea why she was standing here in front of him, refusing to do so. The words were out of her mouth before she could think them through, "And yet, I'm sure when you gave _all _those women _their_ flowers you still had the decency to con them to their face, instead of taping it to the door."

She was walking again, out into open grass, arms swinging at her sides.

"I get you're mad at me!" He called after her. "I was an ass yesterday okay? But what I don't get is why you're _this_ mad at me?"

She stopped walking, turning slowly to look at him.

"Look. You stand there with your Bambi eyes and your barricade up and you expect me to be a mind reader! I shoot straight Juliet. You _know_ that. I ain't good at bein' the boy next door – hell – I'm the guy your mother warns you about! I ain't used to apologizin', but I'm tryin' here."

Juliet stood a few feet away, trying desperately to out-stare him. She had no idea how he did it. She had pretty much _majored_ in erecting barriers, but _he_ seemed to have majored in breaking hers down.

She let out a breath and was about to respond when Sawyer's walkie crackled to life. "La Fleur? Come in La Fleur." Juliet recognized Phil's voice.

Sawyer raised the radio to his lips. He was still looking at her when he growled, "What?" She could almost picture the smaller man falling over his own nerves as he stammered out a reply. "There's uh – we have a – uh – we have a situation out by the – uh – the Tempest. You better get out here right away." The radio clicked and she watched as his entire body sighed.

"You'd better go." She said, turning around and heading off once more.

"Juliet."

"Take an umbrella." She told him, half turning her head to look back at him. "It's going to rain."

Sawyer looked up at the sky. There was nothing but blue skies and an early afternoon sun staring back at him.

"What are you talkin' about? There ain't a cloud for miles!"

But she was already knee deep in grass and out of ear shot, or at least pretending to be.

She looked back after a while, half hoping he'd still be standing there, but he had gone. So she walked on not really caring which way she was going, her thoughts fixed on their second argument in two days. A worry niggled at the back of her mind as she realized she'd rather James not go anywhere _near_ The Tempest at all. It was unstable and toxic. Just last week someone had been brought down to the medical facility to be treated for chemical burns.

Out here under the gaze of the merciless sun, her anxiety began to increase. She knew James could take care of himself, she just wished she'd told him it was okay – that _they_ were okay – because anyone going out to The Tempest deserved to go with a clear head.

Juliet had no idea how long she'd been walking. Her thoughts were cluttered and frustrated. She was cursing Phil's existence, still half-mad at James, blaming whoever the hell invented the walkie-talkie and she was _unbelievably_ angry with herself.

She didn't see it before it was too late. The ground gave way beneath her and she fell forward, tumbling end over end into the confines of a deep ditch. She hit the hard earth and heard her ankle snap. She cried out, her voice echoing back at her. Digging her nails into the wall of the pit for support, she raised herself into a sitting position. Looking around her earthen prison she realized two things. One, there was no way in hell she could get out of this hole without help. And two, she was completely and utterly lost.

Fifteen minutes later, the storm broke.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Thank you once again for the amazing comments, I have not yet had time to get back to everyone but I figured you'd be more appreciative if I got to work on the next chapter. As you can see I have a thing for the '70s - "Rock the Boat" is by Hues Corporation, and yep it's another 1974 hit. This chapter is dedicated to all those people who wanted to punch a certain someone in the face during 5x15.

**Part Three – Rock the Boat**

Sawyer never really had to deal with a whole lot of consequence before, none that he ever cared about anyway. Prison certainly hadn't changed him and if ever there _was_ a consequence, surely that was a doozy?

He was still distracted by Juliet's words, by her firm belief that she was a pawn in some con of his. If it were true, if she really believed that he was playing her, it made him wonder how she viewed the rest of their relationship. Did she think their friendship was a con too? And if she did, why did that bother him so much?

The Jeep bounced a little as he climbed the narrow dirt road up to The Tempest. Phil hadn't said what the situation was, didn't even drop a damn hint. He just said to get up here. There had to be at least three security folks stationed at that plant, so why the hell couldn't they function without La Fleur? Punching the steering wheel he thought that Phil had to be about as useful as a plunger without suction.

He pulled up near the station and got out, rifle in hand. He spotted Phil sitting on a tree stump holding a bloodied rag to the side of his temple. Two members of the security team were holding back a scientist each. The rest of the research station's workers were hovering some distance away.

Sawyer rolled his eyes. "What happened?"

Five people started talking at once.

Sawyer flung his arms in the air. "One-at-a-damn-time!" He flicked the butt of the rifle in Phil's direction. "Talk."

"Well there was a containment breach inside one of the – uh – chambers, and then there was a break down in procedure to – y'know – contain the – uh – containment breach thing. Then there was an argument over the best way to repair the – um – damage – and – and – it's okay now – we think."

Sawyer stared at Phil, and then turned to the scientists who were still being forcibly restrained. He jerked his thumb in Phil's direction. "Either of you two nerds got a better story than that 'cause _that_ was about as interestin' as eatin' white bread with mayonnaise."

"I don't like your tone La Fleur." The shorter of the two said. "Our work is of paramount importance. It could change the face of nuclear physics as we understand it! It could change the way that we harness _energy_! And that is _why_ it is incredibly important that protocol _not_ be improvised!" He said, glaring at his colleague.

"Protocol huh?" Sawyer nodded. "I may be just the dumb hick here, but since your all-important energy harnessin', world changin', hoopla is playin' with toxic chemicals all day long, don't your protocol involve _closin'_ the goddamn _door_?"

They all turned as one toward the gaping hole that led into the structure. Sawyer hit the door controls and a solid steel barrier fell to the ground with a resounding thud. He folded his arms, and glared at them all. There weren't a whole lot of people in the world who could stare him down, and they wilted under his gaze.

That was when he felt it. The rain. He looked up at the sky where big fat clouds were finally releasing two days worth of humidity and insane heat. It was falling hard and fast, the kind of rain that creeps up on you out of nowhere and pummels you like a barrage of bullets. He watched the sky light up as if on fire. Black thunderheads clashed with the pink and white hue of a dying sun. Sheets of lightning danced across the Island's sky, competing with one another during their race around the heavens.

Thunder crashed and pandemonium broke out as people ran for cover. A lightening fork hit the ground some distance away and Sawyer hoped that people had the good sense to get inside and stay there. Phil had managed to trip over his own feet and slam into a tree in his panic. Sawyer grabbed the idiot by the scruff of his collar and half-dragged, half-carried him back to the jeep. He threw him at the passenger door with force, leaving it up to the winded security guard to get himself into the vehicle. Sawyer leapt into the driver's seat, and shoving the stick into gear he revved the engine and tore down the wet and muddy track.

The rain fell hard, blinding his eyes and stinging his skin. He was flying towards the barracks, bouncing out of his seat with every bump he hit, with Phil holding on for dear life. He watched as more lightning hit the ground. Following it with his eye he estimated it had dropped somewhere out in the fields. His blood ran cold.

_Juliet_.

Surely she wouldn't still be out there? But he'd seen her walk off, watched as she'd marched purposefully away from the barracks, away from _him_. His mind started to race, his pulse throbbing loudly in his ears. His own safety forgotten, he reached for the walkie. Throwing it at Phil he yelled, "Get Jin on the line! Ask him if he's seen Juliet!"

"But –" Phil started.

"Phil I swear to God if you don't get on that radio _right now_, I will throw you and your Sam Eagle eyebrows out of this vehicle!"

Phil couldn't fall over himself fast enough. "Jin! It's Phil." He had to shout to be heard.

Sawyer interrupted before he could finish. "Ask him if Juliet's back!"

"La Fleur wants to know if you've seen Juliet?" he called into the walkie-talkie.

Sawyer heard Jin's voice come on the line. "Juliet? No. I not seen her."

"Well _check_ dammit!" Sawyer yelled. "I think she's still out here somewhere!"

He knew Jin would have dropped whatever he was doing and gone to search for her. Sawyer was still racing towards the barracks at high speed. His panic was rising and he felt a lifetime go by before Jin's voice came back to him. "Juliet not back yet."

Sawyer closed his eyes and cursed every single word he'd said yesterday. He cursed his sarcasm, and his insincere smiles - the way he all but leered at her when she was only trying to help. The more he tried to stay his fear, the angrier he became. Sawyer never really had to deal with a whole lot of consequence before. But he hadn't cared this much before either.

"Get out!" he yelled at Phil.

"Wha –"

The barracks came into view. "Get out!" he repeated. He slowed the jeep, reached over and opened the passenger door himself. It swung wildly. Jamming his foot in Phil's thigh, he kicked him out of the moving vehicle. Shear momentum swung the door shut, and he pressed down on the gas once more. The back wheels churned up mud as he did so, a large portion landing directly where Phil had rolled. Sawyer couldn't have cared less. This time, he only had one thing on his mind.

_Find__ Juliet_.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Once again, you're an inspirational audience, and I thank you. "Hang on in there baby" by Johnny Bristol was in the top 100 chart of 1974. I am recommending that anyone reading this part, do as the title suggests!

**Part Four – Hang On In There Baby**

Juliet woke with a start.

Confused and disoriented, her first thought was - _The boiler's sprung another leak_. Her second thought was - _Why the _hell_ am I lying underneath the boiler_?

Then the pain hit her.

She groaned, and opened her eyes. Blinking back rain that clouded her vision she rolled onto her side – right onto her injured foot. "Aahhh!" she cried.

Easing up onto her elbows, she worked herself into a sitting position. _Why do I only have one shoe on?_ She wondered.

The last thing she remembered was clawing at the wall trying to find a way out of this pit. Technically it was a ditch, but right now – to her – it didn't make much of a difference. She was still stuck. She had no idea how she'd ended up flat on her back. _Did I pass out?_ It didn't matter. The freezing rain had woken her.

Her jumpsuit was soaked to the skin. Her hands and face were caked with mud, and her fingers were numb with cold. Her inner-child wanted to curl into a ball and wait for rescue – preferably rescue would be _riding _a white stallion, wearing _nothing_ but tight denim, and had all the good sense to whisk her away to a cosy stable rather than a med-facility. Juliet shook her head. _Where did _that_ come from?_ _Did I hit my head? Seriously, why do I only have one shoe on?_

She raised the back of her hand to her forehead. Even through the icy cold she could feel the warm pulse of fever. She wasn't surprised. The heat of the last two days had been murderous and combined with the torrential rain, she couldn't hope to escape this unscathed.

Her bottom lip quivered – whether from the cold or encroaching fear she wasn't sure. She sat for a few minutes. Her entire body started to shiver. _It's my own damn fault I'm out here._ She thought. _If I hadn't been so stubborn, if I hadn't _marched_ off blindly into God knows where simply to prove a point, I'd probably be curled up under a blanket right now sipping hot cocoa. _Her anger was back, overriding the pain and the cold. Right now she'd sacrifice her broken foot for that cocoa.

Thunder rumbled above her. "I'll be damned if I'm spending one more minute in this hell hole!" she yelled at the sky. The sky responded with a light show.

Juliet used her arms and her good leg to get herself to stand. Hobbling the length of the ditch she sought a likely exit point. She dug her fingers into the muddy walls and, careful to keep her injured leg as straight as possible, she jammed the boot of the other into the thick mud. Using one arm for leverage, she reached up with the other and repeated the pattern of digging her hands into the mud.

There were a few thin tree roots hovering somewhere above her, they'd obviously broken through the dirt during their lateral growth. If she could just reach one of them, she could use it to pull herself up and over the edge. _I am fit! I am resourceful! I have _one_ shoe! I can do this sort of thing in my sleep!_ She told herself.

But the muddy walls were thick and slimy, and with one of her limbs out of commission she just couldn't get a decent grip, not without injuring herself further. Not only were her hands slipping as the mud gave way beneath them, but she could feel her leg losing its support and begin to slide down the wall. Gritting her teeth she tried one more time to launch herself upwards, but the movement caused the aggravated mud to give way and she slid to the ground. She cried out in pain. Cradling her ankle, she wasn't sure she had the strength to try that again.

Legs stretched out in front of her with her back against the wall, Juliet rested her head against the soft mud. She squeezed her eyes tight, fighting back the tears she desperately wanted to be stronger. She dug her hands into her pockets to try and warm them, but her jumpsuit was beyond granting her sanctuary from the cold. Her fist closed around something. Frowning, she pulled whatever it was out of her pocket.

_The flower_.

_The apology_.

_The flower that was _not_ an apology._

_The flower that was not an apology, but was pretty damn close._

Its stem was bent and broken, but most of the pistil was still intact, and surprisingly, so were most of the petals. She clutched the ruined flower in her palm, and then the tears came. Her attempts to stop the tears only resulted in her running out of air, and hacking out a sob. She tried to bury her face in her hands but only ended up rubbing sweat, dirt, and bits of pollen into her eyes. Eventually she gave up and rested her head against the mud once more.

The lightning was less frequent now, mostly just random flashes in the sky. Thunder still rumbled, but it was somewhere in the distance, the storm having moved on to attack another part of the Island. The rain continued to fall steadily, but it was less aggressive than before. It mingled with her tears, and she tried to shut her mind from it all. Eyes closed, the evidence of her sadness continued to seep out from under her eyelids. She was crying. Not because of the pain or her predicament, but because she was _stuck_ here because of him. She'd been _out_ here _because_ of _him_, because he'd _gotten_ under her skin - this man who _lived_ with her and _laughed_ with her, this man who kept her safe. _This man who had nothin' from nothin' here_.

Still clutching the flower, a lone thought flickered through her mind.

_I hate James La Fleur_.

And she cried even more, because their con was her reality and she didn't want to let it go.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Please bear with me in my long-windedness. Thank you to everyone for going on this journey with me. Thank you for your incredible feedback and your awesome comments, whether you commented on the first chapter, whether you commented on the fourth, or whether you commented on all of them - you have been such an inspiration and you've totally made me believe I can write! Thanks to my wonderful beta Ann - you are my constant! "You and me against the world" is a 1974 hit by Helen Reddy. **This is the fifth and final chapter to this story. And I'm pretty damn certain that there will be more Days of Dharma fic to follow. These two are far too awesome not to try! **

**Part Five – You And Me Against The World**

This Island had changed him.

There was a time when the man named Sawyer was only out to serve himself. Occasionally he shared what he had – for a price. But mostly, he looked out for number one. One day broken and winded from the mistake he had made, he ran from his crime and boarded a flight from Sydney to Los Angeles - Oceanic Airlines 815.

This man named Sawyer survived the fall out of the sky. Stranded on a deserted island with forty-seven other passengers, he hoarded his treasures and did what he did best – survived. But voices came out of the jungle and ghosts in the night stole children away. They weren't alone anymore. This island had Others with mysterious secrets, they hid in the shadows and refused them rescue. And then he was taken. A bag was thrown over his head, and he was beaten and locked in a cage.

But then he escaped, and he charged through the jungle searching for freedom. He ran blindly until he stopped to figure out where the hell he actually was… and then he met _her_.

"Hey." The voice came from behind him.

He'd turned to find a woman staring calmly back at him - blonde hair, rosy cheeks, _Not half bad to look at_ flicking briefly through his mind before she oh so casually - as if she did it for a living – tasered him to the ground.

This woman – this Other named Juliet, then saved his life. Through fate and desperation she betrayed her people, and became one of his. She did what she could to gain their trust, to earn their respect, but essentially she was on her own.

In the meantime, the man named Sawyer learned how to share. The blonde with the gun had called him by his given name and he could no longer hide behind an alias, he had to admit to being _James Ford_. And once he was named, he was human. He was called leader, and friend. He was still guarded, still selfish, but less so than he'd been his entire life. Then he'd jumped out of a helicopter, because the load was too heavy. So he sat on a beach with the Other named Juliet. They flashed through time together each feeling their own hurts, each fighting their own demons until one moment it stopped, and she was what he was – just another lost blonde.

It had been six months since James Ford had become Jim La Fleur. Six months since his world had turned on its head once more. And to even _his_ complete surprise, he found that this change continued to better him. He laughed during the day, he slept at night, and he relaxed on the weekends. This world was a con, but it _felt_ so damn right. For the first time – probably in his whole life – he had a home. A home he shared with his best friend – a rosy-cheeked blonde who had once tasered his ass to the floor. When she looked at him, she _saw_ him. She learned his moods, and most of the time, was able to dispel them with a gentle lift of an eyebrow, and the soft curves of an enigmatic smile. When he was angry, she didn't tell him not to be. When he was upset and lost in fading memories, she reassured him with a gentle touch on his arm and understanding eyes. She was a mystery he had yet to solve, and the more time he spent with her, the more he _wanted_ to unlock her secrets. He felt like he owed that to her, to let her know that it was finally okay to breathe, that if she fell, he'd catch her the same way she continued to catch him.

Yes this Island had changed him, but it was Juliet who had healed him.

***

James drove through the wet and muddy landscape, continuing to head in the direction he was sure Juliet had taken. The rain continued to fall and he was forced to slow the jeep in order to see where he was going, he also knew that he had a greater chance of spotting her that way.

"_Juliet!_" he called out into the darkness. "_Juliet!_"

His voice was hoarse but he wouldn't let up. The rain soaked through to his skin but he didn't care. His only thought was Juliet - this woman who had gotten under his skin and stayed there. If he'd allowed himself leeway on his thoughts, it might have occurred to him to dissect his panic and to figure out why he was so scared. But even if he _was_ being generous with his thoughts, they would only have led him right back to where they started six months ago, sitting on that dock. He didn't want her to leave then. And now, he didn't want her to leave _ever_.

James had driven across the fields and headed into uneven terrain, the jeep rocked a bit, and he slowed a little more to stop it from overturning should he hit any serious bumps. So far it had mostly been careful navigation up and down several inclines, but he didn't want to risk speeding through the darkness, the journey was rocky enough as it was. Sure enough, not long after he'd started he felt the jeep jerk as it hit something. He felt it go under the front wheel and then fly under the back wheel. Whatever it was, it was small. _Maybe an animal?_ He thought. _Even the dumbest animal wouldn't be standing still in the middle of a storm._

He brought the jeep to a halt, and got out to investigate. Flashlight in hand he backtracked a little, searching for whatever the hell he'd hit. And then he spotted it lying on the ground a few feet away – a brown work boot. Sawyer picked it up and spun round wildly. "_Juliet!_" he cried.

"_Juliet!_"

Holding his flashlight ahead of him, he began a frantic ground-search. "_Juliet, are you out here?!_" he called again.

And then he heard it, a tiny cry against the wind. "_James._"

James's knees nearly buckled when he heard her voice. "Where are you?!" he called.

A pause. A heartbeat.

"_Down here._" Came the small, tired reply.

_Down?_ James watched his footing as he headed towards her voice. The beam of the flashlight made out the edges of a gaping hole. Getting down onto his knees, he crawled to the edge and peered over. There, directly below him, propped up against the dirt, was Juliet.

She tilted her head back to gaze up at him. "Hey." She said.

He smiled, relief flooding his features. "Hey yourself."

***

James grabbed the tow-chains from the jeep. Hooking one end in place, he dropped them down the length of the hole. He used the chain to help lower him down. When he reached half-way, he jumped the rest of the way down, his boots squelching in the mud. He raced to her side, kneeling down next to her. He drank her in – dishevelled state, her mud-streaked face, and shoeless twisted foot.

"Can't leave you alone for one minute." He said with the hint of a smile on his lips.

Juliet half-laughed, half-sobbed a response. James palmed her cheek, and she leant into it like a person starved for human contact. He could feel her trembling, her eyes had filled with moisture and her lip was wobbling dangerously. He used his thumb to caress her cheek,

"You don't gotta be brave right now." He told her.

She sniffed and leant forward into his arms. Burying her head in his chest, she sobbed. He knelt there cradling her, letting her get it all out. The rain finally gave up, and eventually her breathing evened.

"I'm sorry." She whispered, her face still hidden in his jumpsuit.

"Me too." He replied softly.

They sat there for another minute before he said, "I need to get ya outta here."

Juliet nodded and shook her head simultaneously. James repeated the action, searching her eyes.

"Can't." she managed.

He examined her foot. It was blue and swollen, bent at an awkward angle. He rested his hand on her knee. "You wanna tell me how you lost your shoe?"

Juliet's gaze drifted off to the side, and he saw the fatigue in her eyes and her frown as her brain willed herself to remember.

"I…" she started. "I fell and… my ankle… and I tried to get up… and I couldn't. I took off my shoe 'cause it hurt so bad and… I didn't know how to get out… I stood but I couldn't get out. And I got mad so I threw the shoe." She was crying again. "And then I passed out."

If he weren't so concerned about her and if he couldn't see how much pain she was in, he would have laughed at the way she told her story. He could just imagine her defiant face as she threw her boot out at the storm.

"Well lucky you did. Wouldn't've found you otherwise."

She smiled a little at this.

"You ready to try movin'?" he asked softly.

Juliet stared at her lap, her shoulders rising and falling gently. He could see her mind fighting the logic of moving. Whatever was bothering her, it was enough to keep her rooted. Settling in next to her, he mimicked her position – legs stretched out, back against the mud. She turned her head to look at him. He watched her forehead crinkle as she searched for words she couldn't find.

"I don't hate you." She said eventually.

He frowned and cocked his head in vague amusement. He'd been concussed enough times to know that its effects can bring on some mighty fine conversations with oneself.

Realizing what she'd said, and realizing that she'd probably just confused the heck out of him, she mimicked his frown. She tried again, but she was just so tired.

James held her gaze. Even in the darkness he could still see the intensity in her sapphire eyes.

"I ain't goin' anywhere." He said gently.

She blinked once. A little frown. A quick bite of her lip.

"It's okay." He said.

Her forehead had found its way onto his shoulder. "No it's not." She mumbled.

He kissed the top of her head, tasting mud and papaya-scented shampoo. "Yeah. It is."

Her hand was in his, balled into a fist and squeezing tightly. He returned the pressure, reassuring her. Turning her hand palm up he unravelled her fingers, revealing the crushed and crumpled flower he'd left for her that morning.

She looked at him just then, the hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth. "It got a little broken." She whispered.

"I can fix it." He whispered back.

This time her smile made it all the way. "I believe you."

He smiled back at her and she laughed a little. He leant his forehead against hers, their noses just touching. "You scared the hell outta me." He told her.

"Sorry." She whispered.

"Maybe I _needed_ to be scared."

She moved her head back to look at him. She was frowning in that bemused way of hers, and it struck him just how cute she was when she did that. They sat there for a while just looking at each other, him, grateful that she was okay and her, thankful that he was here. She was so close and it was all he could do not to kiss her right now. And looking into her eyes, he knew that she knew that.

She smiled again. "I'm ready to get out of this sludge-fest."

"Well c'mon then." He grinned.

Helping her to her feet and mindful of her injury, he guided her toward the hanging chain. He dug the flashlight into the ground so that it shone upwards. "I reckon if I push you up, you should be able to make it over the top." He handed her the chain. "Ready?" he asked. She nodded. He knelt down, and she used her good leg to stand on his knee. Taking her weight, he boosted her into the air, using his arms to push her higher still. She grunted in pain, but bore the movement well. With both him and the chain for support, her fingers found the edge of the pit. She threw caution to the wind and dug her good foot into the wall, using the momentum to swing herself upwards. She balanced for a second before bringing the knee of her other leg to land on steady ground, keeping her injured foot hovering mid-air and then bringing up the other to match it. She crawled forward a little to get clear, and then turned to wait for James. He joined her moments later, having used the chain like a climbing rope.

"Well that was an adventure." She mumbled sleepily, exhaustion etched into her face. She waved an arm in the jeep's direction. "Nice stallion."

He raised both eyebrows and bent down to offer her his hand once more. "C'mon, let's get you a bath." He said. She giggled a little at that. With one hand still in hers, he slipped one arm round her waist in an attempt to pick her up.

"I can walk you know." She told him.

"Don't be so damn stubborn." He replied.

"Now? Or in general?"

He looked her square in the eyes. Her expression was deadpan but her eyes glinted in the moonlight. She was teasing him.

"Guess I'll just have to learn to _work around_ your stubborn bits."

"That could take some time." She said matter-of-factly.

He grinned at her. "We got some."

He watched her smile light up her face as he helped her into the jeep. Hopping into the driver's seat he started the engine and put the stick into gear. She was still looking at him, still smiling, her eyes expressing relief and gratitude. Then she turned to face front, leaning her head back and shutting her eyes. He pressed his foot down on the gas and drove back towards the barracks. Occasionally he turned his head to look in her direction, her eyes remained closed but the smile was still there.

Looking out ahead and seeing their home come into view, James was certain of one thing – he should have kissed her anyway.

And he knew, by her upturned lips, that she thought so too.


End file.
